Don't Want to Let Go
by startraveller776
Summary: Trip mulls over his conversation with T'Pol in the shuttlepod. Missing scenes from "These Are the Voyages"


**Disclaimer:** Paramount owns Star Trek Enterprise and the characters therein. All other original material is the property of the author even though I don't make money from it!  
**Rating:** PG-13/T  
**Genre:** Finale Fix/Angst/Romance/Missing Scenes  
**Spoilers:** "These are the Voyages"  
**Summary:** Trip mulls over his conversation with T'Pol in the shuttlepod.

Just a few missing scenes for "These are the Voyages." Nothing more. I, personally, chose to see that heinous series finale as a TNG holodeck episode gone wrong. But my muse wanted closure, so here it is.

Special thanks to **HopefulR**, who beta'd the original draft. I've recently (August 2011) revised it in hopes to smooth out the rougher spots (there are still some places where I wish I had written better!). This was my second fanfiction ever (including all fandoms), and my writing has improved since then!

Theme song: _"Hear You Me"_ by Jimmy Eat World

* * *

**=/\=**

"_However long it may be... I believe I'm going to miss you."_

The words turned over in Trip's mind as he sat on his bunk. He didn't know what to think of his strange conversation with T'Pol in the shuttlepod. _It probably was nothing. _Trip pushed away the image of her vulnerable eyes which seemed to say more than her lips did. He was just transposing his human emotions onto the petite Vulcan like he always did. In a few days the _Enterprise_ would be decommissioned and he'd be off to work in warp theory at Jupiter Station. It was natural he was getting a tad sentimental, and not only about his warp engines.

Yeah, it was probably nothing—an off-hand comment that should be forgotten. She likely already had.

Still, Trip couldn't help reflecting on the past six years and the four years before that. They had gone from enemies to friends to something more—and back to friends again. All the while, he'd felt as if he'd just been along for the ride, having no say in the direction of his relationship with T'Pol. She always held the reins when it came to the two of them.

That wasn't entirely true. He'd put his foot down a few times; he'd demanded more from her and been stubborn enough to get it—once in a while, at least. _But not enough. I didn't fight enough for us._

Trip sighed, glancing at the two photographs on the shelf above his desk. One was his baby sister, Lizzie, smiling, a halo of blonde hair framing her face. The other photo was of his daughter. He picked that one up, caressing the frame. No matter how many years had passed since her untimely death, he still got a lump in his throat whenever he thought of her. He'd once thought Lizzie's death was a tragedy when she was struck down on the cusp of truly experiencing life, but Elizabeth had never had a chance. Something died inside of him along with his daughter, and he knew T'Pol had died a little inside too.

It hadn't taken long for their newly formed bond to die as well. It was funny how something that could cement a relationship, like the death of a child, could also tear it apart. Funny how something that could strengthen a relationship, like that mysterious Vulcan bond, could bring it to its knees. The grief and heartache had been too much—for both of them. Trip had believed, after the pain dulled, they'd come together again, but T'Pol had other ideas.

_"Do you ever miss me?"_

That was so T'Pol—to ask such a loaded question so casually. Trip snorted at the memory. He'd fumbled for his answer, trying to sound as detached. The truth was he missed her more than "sometimes" as he'd implied. How could he tell her every time he looked at her, he remembered their neuropressure sessions? How he remembered the way she tasted when they'd kissed, the way she moved beneath him when they made love? How he remembered the smell of those meditation candles mingled with her own exotic scent? How he had never wanted to give that up?

It wasn't meant to be. The universe had never approved of Trip and T'Pol together, and kept throwing obstacles in their way until... Until it had become too much. And yet, he couldn't shut off his feelings, no matter how much he hid them. He couldn't be Vulcan like T'Pol.

Trip gazed once more at his baby girl before putting the photograph back on the shelf with a sigh. Life wasn't fair sometimes. Hell, it wasn't fair most of the time.

He glanced at the chronometer. He had three hours before he was supposed to meet Jon for drinks. Normally, the thought of an evening swapping stories and getting a little smashed with the captain would coax a smile from Trip's lips, but not today.

_Damn that woman!_

He should get down to Engineering. There had to be some manifold that had escaped cleaning. He needed to be with his girl to help him forget about that other girl he never really had in the first place.

Trip surprised himself by bursting into laughter. Thinking of T'Pol as a "girl" was ridiculous. He shook his head. _Trip Tucker, you are nine kinds of fool for fallin' in love with a Vulcan!_

Standing up, Trip gave another wistful look at his Elizabeths before leaving his quarters. He was going to get nice and greasy in engineering and forget about everything. There was nothing like the gentle, pulsing hum of the warp engine to wash away the rest of the universe. Let T'Pol have her candles, Trip would rather meditate with a hypospanner any day.

As he headed toward Engineering, he mulled over his relationship—or lack of one—with the resident Vulcan. Would he ever find a way to move past her—to no longer love her? Maybe someday. Maybe someday he'd find someone else. Maybe then he'd be free of T'Pol. The thought made his stomach drop. He didn't want to find someone else to have happily-ever-after with. And he didn't want to be just friends with T'Pol. It wasn't enough, anymore. It would never be enough.

He turned, making his way to her quarters, well aware if she was there she'd probably rebuff him. He wasn't going to let her get away without at least knowing how he felt about her.

His newfound confidence dissipated when she answered her door.

"Commander," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Trip had trained himself over the last six years to look at her with disinterest for the sake of their working relationship—for the sake of their friendship. But now… Now, looking at her while he was blazing with every desire, every hope that he'd smothered over the years, his mouth went dry as if he were seeing her for the first time. He'd forgotten how breathtaking she was. He almost left without saying a word.

"Gotta minute?" he asked, internally congratulating himself on being able to speak.

T'Pol inclined her head and stepped aside to allow him entry. Trip took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of her room, recalling in vivid detail every moment he'd had with her in here. That was the spot where they had lain on the floor, talking about warp mechanics while performing neuropressure postures. And there on the bed was where she had sat during their first session, chastely covering her breasts and moaning in a way that he'd never thought a Vulcan could. And there, beyond the now-closed door to the bathroom, was the shower where they had made love for the second time... Did she ever think about those things while she sat in her quarters?

"How can I help you?" T'Pol's voice brought him back to the present.

Trip noticed that a small trunk sat open at the foot of her bunk, half full of her personal items. "Packing already, I see," he said, stalling as he grasped for the right way to open a difficult conversation.

She gazed back at him, wearing her patent Vulcans-don't-do-small-talk-please-get-to-the-point expression. "I prefer not to wait until the last minute."

"Sounds...logical." He gave her a half smile, unable to resist teasing her a little, even with his heart pounding so fast it threatened to break the sound barrier.

"Indeed," she replied, failing to notice joke as usual. How Trip missed this kind of banter!

"Is there something I can help you with, Commander?" she asked again with the slightest hint of impatience.

Trip scrubbed his fingers through his hair. _It's now or never._ "Do you ever miss me?"

"I believe we've already had this discussion." Her face was an impassive mask.

"No, no... not exactly. You asked me if I missed you, but you never said—"

"I said I hadn't thought about those days in a long time."

There was a note of finality in her tone, but Trip wasn't ready to let this go yet. "Yeah, I remember. But what about now? Do you miss me?"

She stared back at him, her eyes widening. This wasn't going very well at all, not if she was giving him the "deer in headlights" look.

"It's not fair, T'Pol." The words tumbled out of him in his desperation to spill everything before she could dash his hopes. "You can't say nothing for six years, then just as we're about to go our separate ways decide to ask me if I've missed you… if I've missed us."

T'Pol opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.

"It's easy for you to say things like that—to throw it out there and leave it alone." He paused, taking a deep breath. "After our daughter—" He choked on the words. "After Elizabeth died, I gave you your space to grieve. And when you didn't come back to me, when you weren't interested in pursuing a…a romantic relationship anymore, I respected that. It hurt like hell, but I respected it. And now, after I've gotten over it as best as I can, you throw it all in my face again." Trip leaned against the bulkhead, closing his eyes. "It isn't fair, T'Pol. You'll get over this in two seconds, but me? Now you got me thinking maybe I don't wanna let go. Maybe I want you 'til 'death do us part.'"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed so vulnerable—far from the stoic Vulcan she'd been these last few years. She also didn't look like she was ready to see all the feelings he was wearing on his sleeve. He sighed. _So much for now or never._

"Anyway," he said, turning to leave before her response could stab him in the heart, "I guess that's what brought me here. Sorry...sorry to've bothered you." He waited a heartbeat, hoping she would utter those words: _Wait, Trip!_ It had been music to his ears those years ago in the corridor. He wanted to hear that music now.

She said nothing, though—just stood behind him in tense silence. So, that was it. Trip was finally honest with her and himself—and... And _nothing. _He let out the breath he'd been holding and reached with a shaking hand for the door panel.

_No! Not this time! Not this time, dammit!_ He wasn't going to go without a fight this time.

He turned around and, in one step, was before her, pulling her petite form to him and kissing her soundly on the mouth. She tasted so good, smelled so good, felt so good. He kissed her as if he were trying to consume her, trying to make up for six years of missed opportunities in one single lip-lock.

Her tense body melted in his arms. He was finally home again. All those years of hurt and disappointment, like a fog which had hovered over them, dissipated as if it had never been. This was where Trip belonged—where he was always meant to be—holding her, showing her how he really felt.

She clung to him as if she were afraid he'd disappear. He held her the same way. Her lips parted and he hungrily accepted the invitation. His need for her intensified—he was losing all rationale. There was only now, this moment with T'Pol. She pulled him toward the bed, still clutching him so closely he wasn't sure where he began and she ended.

Trip had his answer. She did miss him.

As her fingers reached for the zipper of his jumpsuit, a new fear washed over him. He broke off the kiss, capturing her hands. "T'Pol, I..." His throat felt dry. "I want to...but I can't do this if it's still gonna be a goodbye. I mean—"

"Trip," T'Pol interrupted, placing her delicate fingers on his lips, "you have made it clear what you desire from me." She drew his mouth to hers once more and began to work his uniform off.

Trip wanted to laugh. It was so like her to make such an ambiguous statement and act like it was the answer he'd been looking for. The moment of amusement passed, however, as she began to pull up his undershirt and he found himself lost once more to the moment.

He knew tomorrow she might try to take it back, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to let her. He was never going to let her get away again, no matter what obstacles the universe had in store for them.

**=/\=**

_Sometime later, after they had made love with indescribable fervor and passion... Sometime later, after he'd dressed, apologizing that he had to leave to meet the captain for drinks... Sometime later, after the intruder alert on the ship... Sometime later, after the captain summoned her to sickbay... Sometime later, after T'Pol had given her heart to Trip, never to be rescinded again..._

She lay in his darkened quarters, the blankets on his bunk still bearing his musky scent.

What had he said earlier? _"It's not fair." _Truer words had never been spoken. He was gone—forever. Just when she had accepted his love for her, just when they were to embark on an open relationship, he was gone.

"It's not fair."

Her whispered words sounded too loud in the empty room. T'Pol illogically wished she were human, wished she could freely unleash the grief, the agony, the frustration she felt inside without destroying herself. She wished she hadn't been cured of Pa'nar so she could weep.

_"You think that the loss of a colleague or friend doesn't affect us? It does. But if we give in to those emotions, they overwhelm us. You're the ones to be envied."_

She had said those words to Trip years ago in an attempt to comfort him. Who would comfort her now? Who would understand that beneath her Vulcan mask was a heart which had been obliterated by the loss of so many dear to her—her mother, her daughter, and now, the man she would have called husband?

She needed Trip, but he was gone. It wasn't fair he'd left her to bear the anguish alone. She hadn't wanted to let go either.

T'Pol knew eventually she would find peace. She would find a way to understand his senseless death. She would say goodbye to Trip as she had Elizabeth and her mother. She would stand up, open the suitcase and begin to pack all the things that held his lingering touch. She was Vulcan, after all.

But for now, for this moment, she wanted to experience the regret for what might have been and what now would never be.

_It's not fair._

**~FIN~**


End file.
